First Impressions
by The Prickly Pear
Summary: Henrietta Lange takes pride in her ability to spot a good agent and turn them into a great one, but how exactly did she spot the agents we know today? A series of one-shots exploring how each agent came into her sights. Rating may change.
1. Callen

_**Title:**_

_First Impressions_

_**Author:**_

_The Prickly Pear_

_**Genre:**_

_Friendship_

_**Rating:**_

_K_

_**Summary:**_

_Henrietta Lange takes pride in her ability to spot a good agent and turn them into a great one, but how exactly did she spot the agents we know today? A series of one-shots exploring how each agent came into her sights._

_**Author's Note:**_

_This is an idea based around Callen and Hetty's conversation in the episode "Fame" concerning when Deeks (and Callen) became blips on Hetty's radar. I know that this first chapter may no longer be plausible what with season three's revelations about Hetty's connection to Callen's past but I wrote this long before those episodes came out and, honestly, I think the idea still stands when you consider that the point of this piece is to explain how each team member came to her attention as a potential agent (or analyst, computer tech, etc.) and not necessarily how she first learned of their existence._

_There are only a couple of other things I want to mention. The first is that the only character whose age will be specified is Callen and I got that by doing the math based on the year (1983) on the door at his old foster home in the episode "Pushback." All years mentioned are based off that or anything else we may have heard in the show. I try to avoid making stuff like that up if I can. The second thing worth mentioning is that I am not putting these up in order as you will notice in this chapter, but rather as the ideas come to me._

_Please enjoy._

_**Disclaimer:**_

_All characters you recognize are the property of NCIS Los Angeles' rightful owners. __This fanfiction is written solely for my amusement, no money has been made whatsoever._

_**Happy Reading!**_

* * *

_**Chapter One**_

_Callen (1993/2002)_

The year was 1993 when Henrietta Lange first laid eyes on the chameleon that is G Callen. Whether or not he remembered their first encounter was debatable and Hetty sincerely doubted he did but that did not make the event stand out any less in her mind. She had been lead agent of an NCIS team stationed out of Washington DC at the time and already rising in the political ranks when her team was given the lead role in the multi-agency investigation into a new wave of home-grown terrorists operating within the United States. Both the FBI and CIA joined them in the investigation which ended up unearthing a massive cell in the middle of the city with connections nationwide. Still it was not the outcome of the operation which stood out in her mind, nor the fact that she had played such a large role in it, but rather her interactions with the team from the FBI.

From the start they had been pushing to know more, to get updates as soon as they were discovered, to always have an agent onsite. She had, of course, refused on principal. It was disruptive to the work environment to have each team stepping on each others' toes for information. Instead there was a clear cut chain of command and Hetty organized it so that all information pertaining to the case was sent through it in an orderly fashion to avoid any misunderstandings. Though at a glance the system she put in place seemed to have worked beautifully Hetty knew better. The FBI team always had a leg up on everyone else; they arrived at locations before they were called, when interrogating suspects they used information they should not have had, and so on and so forth.

It was not until the end of the investigation that she discovered how they were doing it and to this day the agents involved did not know she'd found out. She'd been on her way to the director's office to brief him on the final outcome of the case when she had noticed, out the window, the FBI team filing out of the building. Waiting for them was a nondescript silver car parked along the curb and as they approached a young man hopped out of the driver's seat to greet them. Hetty had not been at all surprised to discover that the FBI had its own drivers; it fit so well with their mannerisms as an agency. It was only when she got a slightly better look at his face that she realized he may not have been a driver after all.

He couldn't have been more than 24, a mere child in the world of agents, and yet he received a quick clap on the shoulder from the FBI's lead agent as they greeted each other. He didn't look like anything special. He was not a particularly large man nor was he outrageously well built, instead he had the slightly stocky build of someone who was athletic yet didn't frequent the strength machines at the gym. His blond hair was cut short, just brushing the top of his ears and his bright blue eyes shone in the sun, somehow managing not to look nearly as innocent as they should despite their being nothing sinister about them. He was dressed, unlike the rest of the FBI team, in jeans and a dark T-shirt but the badge Hetty could see hooked to his belt confirmed her suspicions about him.

She had seen him around the building all throughout the case, never once with a pass but always looking exactly as if he belonged. She had thought nothing of it, had not even noticed it was the same man time and time again, listening in on their conversations, reading over their shoulders... Hetty was shocked to realize, as she looked back over the case in her mind, that she had even spoken to him, told him information about the case without meaning to. He had tricked her, he had tricked everyone; she had to admit, the kid was good. But then that was to be expected, what with the amount of bragging the FBI had been doing the last few years. He, she was sure, was their prodigy. She'd heard a considerable amount of talk concerning him over the last few years; the rumours, if they were to be believed, said that he was a born operator, perfectly suited to undercover work and a natural at all aspects of the job.

Watching him now as he spoke casually with FBI agents who could make even the most powerful of men squirm, Hetty had to give the boy credit. He had done what only a very elite group of people had ever managed to do, beat her at her own game of deception. Talent like that should never go to waste and she decided, at that moment, to keep her own eye on the FBI's little prodigy. With that thought she watched the agents pile into the car seemingly in order of seniority until finally only the boy was left standing on the curb. With his hand on the door handle he glanced back up at the building and for a split second their eyes met, just long enough for him to give her a quick smirk before sliding into the car with his coworkers. A smirk which, to her complete surprise, Hetty returned.

* * *

It was nine years before Hetty came face to face with the FBI's little prodigy again and by that time he was no longer their golden boy. Sure the undeniable talent was still there but he had proved himself to be, on occasion, more trouble than anyone was worth. Through her years of watching him she had seen him move from the FBI to the CIA and from there on to the DEA then on to a tour of duty with the KGB in Russia before returning home to the United States for a second go around with the CIA then FBI. That was where he found himself now, unhappily employed by the FBI and looking, yet again, for a change of scenery.

Sitting before her in the LA office she now ran as Operations Manager, Hetty noted that G Callen looked almost nothing like the young man she'd first seen back in DC all those years ago. The years had clearly changed him, or perhaps it was just this last case. Either way he was scruffy and unshaven, his dirty blond hair was longer than it had been and hanging haphazardly into those pricing blue eyes which, though they had not lost their colour, were now bloodshot and tired. He was very pale, only emphasizing the bruising around his left eye and the stitches hidden beneath his bangs. He was dressed in a baggy, long sleeved shirt and jeans which had obviously seen day days and just visible from beneath the sleeve of his right arm was a cast, clearly holding a broken wrist in place. Hetty had also noticed when he had sat down that he was probably nursing a few broken ribs.

Facing him from behind her desk Hetty decided to break the silence which had fallen over them. "Rough case?" she asked, eyeing his injuries critically.

Callen shrugged slightly. "You could say that."

Hetty took the vague answer in stride, he was an undercover agent after all, vague is what they did best. "Well Mr. Callen, my name is Henrietta Lange."

"I know who you are," said Callen with a smile, "The same way you know who I am. Rumours travel and they travel fast."

Hetty nodded, glad for the lead into a topic she knew they had to discuss. "That they do," she agreed, "And if those rumours are to be believed you have become something of a liability lately, this latest case for example, the rumour is that it was you who compromised your cover leading to your, current state." She gestured to his battered body.

Callen let out a snort of cold, humourless laugher and nodded slowly while smiling wryly at nothing in particular. "Well the rumours are wrong then," he said coldly, "The op was going fine until the FBI bureaucrats and their superiority complex decided to get involved."

Hetty had to smile at that. She knew plenty about what happened when people whose minds were not adapt for undercover work tried to get involved in an operation and she had no trouble believing that the higher ups in the FBI chain of command would blame the failed op on the agent involved. Callen's frustration was warranted and she just hoped she could use that to her advantage. "So am I to assume that your superiors do not know you're here?" she asked politely.

"I donno," said Callen with an unconcerned shrug, "I would doubt it. I don't make a point of telling them where I'm going and I'm not exactly the easiest person to find..."

"That is true," Hetty agreed, nodding slightly, "I've heard you can be next to impossible to find, that - despite your love of breaking the rules - you are still an asset to any team."

Callen raised the eyebrow that was not roofed by stitches and smirked slightly. "I've heard the same thing about you," he said swiftly, "I've also heard that bending the rules - as I prefer to call it - is not something you object to entirely."

Hetty allowed her own face to mirror his smirk as she studied the scruffy man sitting before her. "There is a position availed at NCIS," she said finally.

"Is that all the information I get?" Callen asked, tilting his head to the side just a touch.

"Do you need more?" Hetty returned, studying his reaction.

Callen blinked, considered her for a moment then smiled. "No ma'am."

Hetty smiled. "In that case, welcome aboard," she told him, leaning across the desk and shaking his good hand before standing up. She made to leave her office but paused at the door, turning back around to look over her new recruit once more. "And Mr. Callen?" she added, "You will need a haircut, a shower and a shave." She wrinkled her nose. "And a new wardrobe."

Callen actually laughed. "Of course mother," he replied.


	2. Sam

_**Chapter Two**_

_Sam (2003/2004)_

The non-descript November day was a day of firsts for Henrietta Lange. It was the first time she traveled to the airstrip to greet Agent Callen when he returned home from an operation which should have been his last, the first time she found herself attached to an agent since Agent Sullivan had been killed almost four years ago, and the first time she heard mention of Sam Hanna. As she made her way out on to the tarmac and over to the waiting plane the tiny Operations Manager was greeted by the sight of her injured agent making his way slowly towards her. He had, of course, refused the help of anyone who offered it, choosing instead to limp along on crutches due to the cast which encased his right leg up to the knee.

"Mr. Callen," she greeted when he reached her, eyeing his battered body critically. "How's the damage?"

Callen shrugged with a slight smile. "I'll live," he replied lightly, "Might beep a bit more when I go through metal detectors though..."

Hetty decided to let him get away with the vague answer, at least for now. She would be getting a full medical report from every doctor who had worked on him within the week anyway so there was no point pushing the matter. Agent Callen was not a fan of 'caring and sharing' as he had once put it.

"Well it's good to see you in once piece in any case," she told him, leading the way back to her car slowly enough that he could keep pace with her.

"Good to be in one piece," Callen laughed then glanced down at his injuries, "Well, mostly."

Again Hetty let the comment slide and they covered the remaining distance to the car in silence.

"So did you send the SEALs?" Callen asked conversationally when they reached it at last, leaning on the side of the vehicle with one arm resting on the roof while he studied Hetty over it.

Pausing with the driver's door open Hetty looked up at him. "The SEALs, Mr. Callen?"

"Yeah," said Callen idly, "The team of Navy SEALs who will probably be wanting credit for saving my ass."

The tiny woman raised her eyebrows sceptically. "And do they deserve credit for, as you put it, saving your ass?"

Callen laughed softly. "No one saves my ass."

"Well," said Hetty, smiling despite herself at Callen's answer, "I did not call the SEALs personally but I did request whatever form of backup could get to your location fastest."

The injured man nodded. "Which turned out to be SEALs..." He looked thoughtful for a moment. "I'd always thought those guys were more gung-ho, you know, go in guns blazing kill a few people... But this one guy, Hanna I think his name was, he was very smoke and mirrors, very operator-like..."

"And you're telling me this because...?" Hetty asked, taking her turn to look thoughtful.

Callen merely shrugged. "It confused me," he said lightly, before sliding into the car. 

* * *

While the whole rescue seemed to fade from Callen's mind the moment the cast was off his leg, Hetty found herself thinking often about the navy SEAL mentioned by her operator. Like any good Operations Manager she had looked into to the unit which had responded to her call, read the file of each man involved and found her curiosity peeked by the same person. Sam Hanna was a highly accomplished member of the team, touted for bravery and an unprecedented ability to improvise quickly under pressure. He was, as Mr. Callen had noticed, rather operator-like.

Still it was over a year before she made a move on him, choosing instead to watch from a distance until she was certain he processed the distinct qualities she was looking for. And he did. Contacting him, however, had to be done carefully. Sam was an action man by nature and while the undercover side of their profession was very much action based the investigative side was not. Still she was certain he would be well suited to this line of work and she had never failed to recruit a potential agent once she had them in her sights.

Rising to her feet with that thought in mind Hetty extended her hand towards the young man standing before her, all muscles and pressed uniform and looking as professional as possible. "Mr. Hanna," she greeted politely, "My name is Henrietta Lange, I am the Operations Manager at this branch of NCIS."

The dark skinned man nodded his shaved head respectfully. "Miss Lange," he returned, taking her hand and shaking it firmly, "Pleasure to meet you."

"Hetty, please Mr. Hanna," she replied with a smile, lowering herself back into her seat and studying him from across her desk.

Sam followed her lead, taking his place across from her and smiling slightly. "Hetty," he corrected, "So am I to assume that you know who I am?"

Hetty smirked. "Of course. You wouldn't be here were that not the case. I invite only the best."

Sam raised one eyebrow quizzically. "The best, Ma'am?" he asked.

"The best operators, Mr. Hanna," the tiny woman explained, "Undercover specialists of unprecedented skill who make up a team focusing on national security and counter terrorism operations."

The young man looked surprised for only a moment before regaining him composure in a way that told Hetty she had certainly made the right decision concerning him. "It's not a career path I'd ever considered," he told her calmly, "Is there any more you can tell me about it?"

"Plenty, yes," Hetty smiled, leaning forward and resting her hands on her desk, "Whether such things are worth discussing, however, is questionable. This is not a career one picks based on information; this is a career one picks with their heart."

Sam tilted his head slightly, clearly taken aback by the vagueness of her answer. But he did not know what he was walking into and that was what she had on him. Mystery and intrigue would make him wonder, make him imagine, make him create the ideal job and place those characteristics on what she was offering. Not that they weren't there already. Allowing her smile to grow ever so slightly she tilted her head to match his body language and waiting patiently.

The young man did not disappoint, after a moment's silence he cleared his throat and nodded once. "Seems like it could be a very interesting position," he said carefully.

Hetty beamed. She was about to reply when the sound of footsteps approaching interrupted their interview.

"He a newbie?" Callen asked lightly, poking his head into the office and giving Sam a quick one-over.

"Mr. Callen," Hetty greeted calmly, as though this kind of interruption was nothing new to either of them, "I was under the impression that you and Agent Macy were interrogation a suspect..."

Callen shrugged. "She doesn't know anything but Mace is gonna try and flip her anyway. She seems to relate better to her. Must be a girl thing."

"Most women relate better to their own gender," said Sam unexpectedly, drawing the eyes of both NCIS employees and shrugging slightly, "They tend to feel more at ease..."

Hetty looked between the two men discreetly. They were playing a very subtle game of top dog already what with Mr. Hanna challenging Mr. Callen like that and it was not going to go unnoticed. It was obvious that the newcomer was used to jockeying to position and she only hoped he knew what he was getting himself into.

Callen's face was as unreadable as always, his eyes studying the dark skinned man before him with a playful sort of indifference as he considered the comment. After the briefest of seconds a allowed a smirk to takes its place on his face and folded him arms in a would-be casual gesture. "Think what you like, Newbie, but we'll see if you keep that opinion after you've met Macy," he said with a chuckle, "That woman can kill you with a paperclip, no offence Hetty."

"None taken," Hetty smiled, shaking her head at her agent's antics but playing along all the same, "I do prefer my letter opener in that endeavour."

Sam seemed to choose that moment to remind everyone of his presence. "I haven't told you yet if I'll even be accepting your offer," he pointed out.

Callen met Hetty's gaze and they exchanged a quick smile. "Sure you have," said the blond lightly, "It's written all over your face." Turning his attention back to his boss dropped the act and said more seriously, "I'll let you know if she flips."

"Thank you, Agent Callen," Hetty replied.

Sam shifted slightly in his seat as the younger man made to leave the office. "Says the man whose ass I had to save," he quipped.

Callen paused and turned his head to stare at older man an odd, calculating expression on his face which gave absolutely no indication of what he was thinking. At long last a smile flitted across him features and he nodded. "Not bad, Newbie," he laughed, "Not bad at all. But for the record, my ass did not need saving." And with that he flashed a quick grin and vanished from the doorway before any kind of comeback could be made.

Sam shook his head. "Is he always like that?" he asked.

"For the most part," Hetty nodded, "Mr. Callen enjoys a good challenge and you may have just given him one." She watched him absorb the information and smiled when his face did not change. "Shall we say you start next week?" she asked knowingly.

The young man shook his head but he was smiling. "You guys have an odd way of getting what you want."

"It grows on you," Hetty assured him.

Sam just smiled. "It'd better."


	3. Eric

_**Chapter Three**_

_Eric (2003)_

It was the most popular theory of conspiracy buffs and average Joes alike: when a top secret government agency needed equipment for one of their ops it was procured for them by their patron administration and provided with no questions asked. In reality, while on some occasions they did require equipment which had to be provided by the government it was never without questions and questions meant red tape. It was for that very reason that Hetty had always attempted to avoided that technique whenever possible, preferring to take a more hands on approach to equipment gathering. After all it was just as easy for her to walk into a local electronics store and purchase the high definition camera she needed.

A bell chimed softly above her head as she pushed the door open and stepped in the air-conditioned room beyond, taking note of her surroundings as she did so. The soft glow of various computer screens and television sets illuminated the little shop while a selection of alarm clocks blinked dully against the plain white shelves on which they sat. Radio static emanated from the far corner and it seemed there was no one around to bother fixing it. In truth Hetty did not mind the continued buzzing, it muffled the sound of her footsteps allowing her to move in the shadows, exactly as she liked it.

Slipping into her chosen character easily she proceeded to wander the few isles in silence, plucking the odd box off the shelves to study it and allowing her fingers to trail over those she did not pick up. Clueless consumer would serve her well in this situation. Continuing between the rows of electronics at a snail's pace she waited the customer service that would undoubtedly come to her aide but no one appeared, the radio static her only companion as it buzzed on. Hetty sighed, she did prefer it when the service came to her rather than having to ask for it herself as that approach provided her with less time to study her intended target. Still this was a simple shopping trip and she shook her head slightly, stitching her most cheerful smile in place before beginning her search from some form of store employee.

It was the hurried clicking of fingers on a keyboard which caught her attention, drifting towards her from the depth of the store and drawing her feet in that direction. Out of habit she melted into the shadows as she moved, allowing herself to become all but invisible. The product lined shelves died off abruptly and Hetty found herself peering down a dimly lit hallway from which the tapping was coming, just as quickly as ever before. Taking fate into her own hands she made her way down the hall, placing each foot carefully so as not to make a single noise as she went and making certain to keep her senses tuned for any sign of company.

At last the source of the noise came into view in the form of a young man hunched over a glowing screen, his hands dancing across the keys in a practiced motion. He had the standard Los Angeles suffer-dude look to him, scruffy blonde hair, flip-flops and a Hawaiian shirt over a pair of khaki shorts but by the way his fingers moved Hetty could tell computers were his first love. The tiny sliver of tongue caught between his teeth and just escaping his lips along with the blue-green eyes narrowed behind his glasses only served to prove his concentration on the task at hand. It was that task which caught the Operation Manager's attention, the files and images flashing across the screen in a pattern she knew only from watching OSP's tech crew. The man was hacking.

It was impressive, actually, the speed at which the blonde navigated the maze of computer files before him and Hetty allowed herself several minutes to observe him, keeping to the shadows the whole time. Having never been all that talented with computers (at least not compared to those she met in the course of her job or, for that matter, the young suffer before her,) she had only a vague idea of what he was up to. Still, even she could tell it wasn't legal. Smiling slightly to herself Hetty retraced her steps in silence until she reached the rows of shelves once more. It seemed she may get more than just a high definition camera from this trip...

Making her way over to the service counter she cleared her throat loudly and wrapped on the wooden surface with her knuckles. "Excuse me?" she called, glancing around the shop just to make it that much more convincing, "Is there anyone here?"

She hadn't expected him to be there so quickly but in the blink of an eye there stood the young man, a bright grin on his face and his hair flopping in every direction as though he'd mussed it up before running to her aide.

"Sorry about the wait, Ma'am," he said cheerfully, his face betraying nothing but the deepest sincerity, "What can I do for you?"

Hetty gave the man a small smile over the countertop. "It's no problem," she replied kindly, her eyes twinkling, "I assume you were preoccupied with something." The momentary look of discomfort the blonde's face what proof enough of her previous suspicion and the Operation Manager chuckled softly. "I was hoping to purchase a video camera, a small one," she continued, preventing any awkwardness skilfully, "Do you have any suggestions?"

"Yes, absolutely!" the man grinned, regaining his enthusiasm instantly, "Right this way please, Ma'am." 

* * *

With her curiosity peeked Hetty became something of a regular in the little shop, returning for repairs or to purchase more cameras using the excuse of rambunctious grandchildren and an energetic puppy to explain the frequency of her visits. Over the course of several weeks she and the young shopkeeper developed something of a rapore and while he did not know it his skills were under inspections each time she came. His name was Eric Beale, she'd come to discover, a self-taught computer geek with a passion for surfing and an offbeat sense of humour. He was by no means cut out for undercover work (his face was a colour coded map of his emotions, after all) but his computer skills were the likes of which she'd never seen. Slowly she picked away at his double life, worked him until she was certain that he could (if he wanted to) provide her with any information on the web.

As it was young Eric's future came down to one final test, the first one he was aware of for she had come to him that moring with a choice: come and work for her and leave his go-nowhere job in the dust or she would report his hacking to the authorities. She had told him very little of the position she was offering, stating only that it would require computer skills and the passing of the test she had planned for him and he had hastily agreed to it, his fear of the alternative painfully clear.

"So... Where are we?" Eric asked cautiously, turning his head blindly as though the motion would somehow allow him to see through the thick, black blindfold tied over his eyes.

Hetty smiled to herself, steering him across the Ops Center and helping him take a seat in front of the main computer. "We're here," she told him, reaching up and gently removing the cloth.

The eerie blue light of the computer screens only emphasised the look of shock with overtook his face upon seeing the room. "Whoa..." he said softly, "You so do not have a puppy..."

The Operations Manager chuckled softly and shook her head. "I do not," she agreed, "I do, however, work with some rather accident prone people."

"You know, I think I take offence to that Hetty," came a voice from the doorway.

Agent Callen smirked slightly as he made his way into the room, leaning heavily on his crutches as he moved, his right leg encased in a somewhat battered looking cast up to the knee.

"I consider breaking ones leg an accident," the tiny woman replied.

"Yeah, maybe," Callen conceded, "But it's better than the other options I had."

Hetty simply shook her head and returned her attention to the younger man still sitting nervously before the computer. "Question, Mr. Beale?" she asked.

"Umm... Yes?" Eric replied uncertainly, after a moment's silence he seemed to realize that they were waiting for said question and continued hastily, "Who is he?"

Agent and Operations Manager gave each other a look and Hetty smiled. "That is for you to find out," she explained, "On the desktop you will find a photograph of my accident prone friend, from that you will search out everything there is to know about him."

"That's the test?" the hacker asked, looking somewhat relieved.

"It is."

"Oh, well I can do that!" he said brightly, turning around to commence his work.

Callen shook his head, smirking once more as he turned to his boss. "Sometimes you're evil, you know that?"

Hetty smiled.


	4. Kensi

_**Chapter Four**_

_Kensi (2008)_

For most people job interviews serve several purposes, but for Henrietta Lange they served only one. They were final check, the confirmation of facts she already knew yet even so they were often the first face to face meeting both parties were aware of. She was known for her attention to detail, known for studying her potential agents for months, sometimes years, before approaching them and bringing only the best on to her team. Still, there were times when her director felt the need to interfere with her selection process. That was not to say that Director Shepard did not have a good eye for agents as well, she had been instrumental in the selection of Ziva David as a liaison officer in DC after all, it was more a question of personal space and the Office of Special Projects was Hetty's personal space. Even so, the result of the director's interference sat before her, a smile lighting her young face and her mismatched eyes filled with determination.

Kensi Blye was, based on the rather hasty research the tiny woman had been forced to scrap together, an all-around Navy girl. The daughter of a Marine she had grown up moving from base to base until her father's untimely death at which point she and her mother had settled at Camp Pendleton and remained there for the duration of her childhood. She had studied forensic science and was spotted by Director Shepard while enrolled in the police academy. Hetty was prepared to admit that the girl seemed to have the making of an excellent agent though she would much have preferred to let her get her feet wet in the undercover world of LAPD before approaching her. Clasping her hands slowly upon her desk the Operations Manager surveyed the rather feminine exterior, her eyes wandering occasionally to the fitness and weapons training reports which lay before her. Based on those, this was not a woman one should judge by her looks.

The dark haired girl was fidgeting slightly, a restless energy, similar to the one which often resonated from Agent Callen when he was confined too long, making itself known. Her fingers were the giveaway, twitching every few seconds as she was undoubtedly fighting the urge to break the silence which had surrounded them for more than ten minutes. Still Hetty made no move to speak as she separated her hands just as slowly and careful as she'd brought them together and filled the page of the file. A psychological report of her potential agent stared up at her, spilling forth the story of a brilliantly adapted young woman with understandable issues in relation to men. She had already read every word of the report, of course, as with all the others, but there was no point speaking just yet. Besides, it was what those things left out of the file which interested her.

Finally it seemed the silence grew too much for her, and Kensi swallowed a sigh. "Miss Lange?" she asked carefully, "I was wondering when we were going to get started?"

Hetty looked up from the papers and in the same measured movement as before clasp her hands carefully. "Get started with what, Miss Blye?" she asked easily.

The younger woman's surprise was visible only for a split second before she wiped it away, demonstrating a level respectable level of talent, and replaced it with the same polite smile she'd been wearing since entering the office. "The job interview," she replied carefully, "I was told there may be a position available here."

The Operations Manager nodded. "There is," she confirmed.

Kensi seemed to wait a moment before answering. "Well, I'm interested in that position."

"I am aware of that," Hetty replied, fighting the urge to smirk. Any moment now...

This time the sigh did escape from the dark haired girl's mouth, albeit quietly and she leaned forward in her chair. "Look, Miss Lange," she began, her voice slightly more intense than before, "I know the file doesn't say much, and I know I look like just another girl who wants to be a secret agent but I'm not. I'm good at what I do. I really am. I'd be good for this team too. But, if that's not what you want then just tell me, you must have read those reports like six times by now."

The tiny Operations Manager allowed herself to smile at the woman's words, setting the file aside and studying her across the desk. "Based on the information provided in your file you have no way of knowing whether or not you are 'good at what you do,'" she noted calmly. Kensi did not respond and Hetty's smile turned into more of a smirk. "Are you implying that there is information which has not found itself on your records?" she continued.

"Yes," the potential agent admitted, nodding slightly.

"And those would be?..."

Kensi did not hesitate. "Undercover operations for the LAPD," she replied, a look of pride lighting her eyes, "Four of them, all off the books and all successful. Drug cartels or gangs we may or may not have had the evidence on. Apparently I make a good junkie."

"I see," Hetty nodded mildly and Kensi shook her head.

"You already knew that, didn't you?"

"I did," Hetty smiled once more, "What I did not know, however, was how much you wanted this job."

"Enough to break LAPD protocol," Kensi grinned, "Before I even officially work for them," she added as an afterthought, "Must be setting some kind of record there."

"In all likelihood," Hetty agreed, her tone turning suddenly businesslike, "There is just one more thing I need from you, Miss Blye."

"What's that?" Kensi asked, showing enough intuition to give the older woman a somewhat wary look.

"A demonstration of your undercover skills, if you don't mind."

"Oh!" The grin returned in full force and the mismatched eyes lit up once more, "Sure thing. Anything in particular you'd like me to do?"

"Yes," Hetty replied, rising from her chair and stepping towards the door of her office, "You see the dark haired man slouching in our bullpen? His name is Mike Renko, he is one of my agents. My task for you, Miss Blye, is simple. Convince me that you and Agent Renko are in a relationship."

"Is he in on it?" Kensi asked.

"He is not. Is that a problem?"

The potential agent shook her head. "Not at all," she smirked, her eyes dancing.

There was no hesitation in her movements as Kensi strode confidently towards the bullpen, her body language changing with each step. By the time she reached Renko's side she was nearly skipping, the once professional air having given way to that of a simpering schoolgirl.

"Mikey!" she cried happily, wrapping her arms around him and tugging him to his feet, "I missed you baby!"

The scruffy haired agent looked understandably confused and Hetty was just beginning to worry that she would have to fail the girl for lack of manipulating her mark when she did something quite unexpected. With the biggest of loving smiles Kensi pulled Mike into a kiss, a long, passionate kiss which got the latter into character immediately. The Operations Manager was just wondering how long they would continue for when -

"Whoa," came a voice from behind them, "Did she just do what I think she did?"

Kensi, whose arms were still wrapped loosely around the Agent Renko's waist, turned towards the source of the sound. Two men, one tall and dark-skinned with a shaved head and the other a good head shorter with short-cut blond hair and bright blue eyes, stood side by side staring at them with matching smirks gracing their faces.

It was the taller man who had spoken and his partner nodded in agreement. "It certainly looked like she did," he noted calmly.

"Oh she definitely did," Renko added, having recovered himself from the shock of it all enough to be smirking just as much as the other two.

The blond chuckled softly, "Well clearly the new girl has no respect for her personal hygiene."

"Hey!" said Renko indigently, "I take offence to that, besides you're just jealous that I got tongue action and everything."

Watching from afar Hetty was smiling, perhaps this first impression would be telling after all. If Miss Blye could survive a round with her boys then she may just have a place among them. The younger woman was standing just out of the conversation, her eyes narrowed slightly as she took in the situation she'd been thrown into yet there was no sign of discomfort or worry on her face.

The Operation Manager's musings were interrupted by Agent Macy who arrived on the scene with her arms folded across her chest. "What are you three on about?" she demanded, glaring at the men before her until her gaze fell on Kensi instead, "And who are you?"

"Kensi Blye, I'm – "

"She's the new girl."

"Potential new girl," Hetty corrected over the simultaneous answers of both Kensi and Sam all the while trying her best not to chuckle. One day Macy would learn simply not to ask.

"There was tongue, Hetty. That's got to give her points," Renko piped up with a rather self-satisfied smirk.

Callen rolled his eyes. "You just want more tongue, Renko," he quipped easily.

"There was no tongue..." Kensi started to argue but the boys did not seem willing to give up on their fun so quickly.

"Oh, I'm pretty sure I saw tongue," Sam chuckled.

"Definitely saw some tongue," his partner added.

Now it was Macy's turn to roll her eyes. "You are so juvenile, all of you," she sighed before turning to the dark haired girl before her, "I'm Special Agent Lara Macy."

"Kensi Blye," the girl returned, this time uninterrupted by any of the boys, "Hopefully your new teammate."

"Teammate with benefits," Renko corrected, sliding up to Kensi and putting an arm around her with a playful grin.

Returning the gesture and pulling him slightly closer Kensi smirked, "I took a little feel while we were making out," she told him just loudly enough for the others to hear, "If you want benefits, Mikey, you're gonna have to have something there."

"Oh!" Callen laughed, "She bites too."

"You just got owned by the new girl, 'Mikey,'" Sam added with a smirk.

Macy was smiling in spite of herself and shook her head as she spoke over the many arguing voices. "Hetty?"

With a smile of her own the Operations Manager nodded once. "Show her the ropes, Agent Macy."


	5. Deeks

_**Author's Note:**_

_Alright, I am back, well, I hope I am anyway. I'm trying but I'm just not feeling the creative juices right now. Still, I found the outline for this chapter buried in my computer and decided that I couldn't let it go to waste. Now, I'm not super pleased with it, the ending in particular, but because we actually get to see Hetty extend the job offer to Deeks, I found it far more difficult to flesh that part out without simply describing the scene we all saw on TV. That being said, I enjoy the start and as that's really the focus anyway I hope it'll be fine. Please enjoy._

* * *

_**Chapter Five**_

_Deeks (2009/2010)_

Sometimes, on those rare days when the world took a break from killing each other, Hetty would go for a drive. The tradecraft which had been a crucial part of her life for so long made certain that she never drove the same route twice but in all honesty that was part of the joy she found in the activity. Some days she would leave the hustle and bustle of the city completely, heading well past the outskirts of town and driving endlessly without passing another soul until the fuel gage demanded her return. Other days the need to see what it was she fought for day in and day out led her to remain within the city limits, weaving her way through all the popular gathering places just to watch the many people who would never know who she was. Even the inner city traffic could be relaxing if one looked at it in the right frame of mind. It was on one of those days, as she navigated bumper to bumper traffic, that she met Marty Deeks.

Having returned to Los Angeles only two weeks before, Hetty found herself driving the city streets far more often than ever if only to chase away the images which had greeted her upon her return. Lara Macy's helpless face as she informed her that Callen still hadn't regained consciousness and the doctors couldn't even offer up confirmation that he would; Sam Hanna's exhausted form sitting vigil at his fallen partner's bedside; Kensi Blye's endless pacing of the hospital's halls and Agent Callen himself, pale as death and closer to it than any man should be permitted to get with five bullet holes riddling his body. Even now, there was no sure sign of improvement though the fact that he was still breathing (albeit with the constant help of innumerable machines) gave her the smallest shred of hope. So she drove, willing that hope to grow, if only temporarily, and forcing those images to fade to the back of her mind, giving her a well needed reprieve.

It was only when the fuel light came on and the gas gage set up camp on Empty that she finally put an end to her drive. Pulling into the nearest self-serve station, Hetty set about refilling the tank of her Jaguar when the unmistakeable odour of poor personal hygiene reached her nose. Replacing the nozzle calmly she allowed her training to take over and identified the source of the smell as a homeless man making his way unsteadily towards her. She couldn't help but wrinkle her nose as the true power of the man's stench became apparent.

"Spare change? Ya got any spare change?"

Hetty considered the dishevelled man curiously, taking in every detail from the trembling hand held out pleadingly in her direction to the several week old beard and unwashed blond hair poking out from beneath a dirt streaked tuque. "I do not," she replied after a moment.

The man took a few steps forward, as if testing his boundaries, and waved the extended hand slightly. "Ya sure? Nothin' at all? I'd take a buck, ma'am, just a buck or two."

He was close enough now that the tiny Operations Manager could smell his breath wafting towards her, a slight minty tinge to it. Hetty smiled. "You know, I may have a few, as you say, bucks, on me. Why don't you let me buy you something nutritious? Perhaps a cup of tea as well? I hear there's a lovely place just a block from here."

"Uhh..." the man looked understandably confused by the sudden change in her demeanour but, to his credit, he faltered only for a moment, "You know, I got this thing 'gainst ridin' with strangers."

"What about walking with strangers?" the tiny woman suggested helpfully, "I could leave my car here, if you prefer." The man looked decidedly unconvinced and Hetty, admittedly impressed by the performance, offered up a sigh. "I simply would like to make certain my money is going to the right place."

"I swear I'll buy somethin' good for me, how 'bout that?"

Hetty chuckled softly. "Are you really going to deny a woman some company?"

The man blinked once then, slowly, a smile worked its way onto his face. " 'Course not, ma'am."

A few minutes and one park job later, Hetty and her foul smelling distraction were walking slowly down the sidewalk together. There was no shortage of strange looks being thrown their way, as almost everyone they passed seemed to feel the need to do a double take at the sight of the tiny, well dressed woman walking shoulder to shoulder with the tall, homeless man. The man, Randy (or so he said,) still seemed somewhat uncomfortable with the whole situation but the Operations Manager couldn't have been happier. For the first time since she walked into the hospital two weeks ago she had a new project to distract her. A potential new agent.

They reached the cafe in no time and Hetty ushered Randy to a table in the corner, well away from the other patrons, before ordering tea and a sandwich for both of them. She even brought their meals to the table herself to prevent the staff from getting a whiff of her guest's stench.

"Thank you," said Randy politely as she passed him his food.

"You're very welcome," she replied, taking a seat opposite him and setting her own meal out neatly on the table before sipping her tea, "It's been a while since you've been treated to anything, I'm sure."

The man nodded, wisely keeping his mouth shut as he had just taken a large bite of sandwich.

"So, tell me a bit about yourself, Randy," Hetty continued, allowing just the tiniest of smiles to work its way on to her face.

Gulping down what was left of his mouthful, the blond haired man shrugged and gave her a cheeky sort of grin. "Well, I'm a Capricorn, I love surfing and long walks on the beach..."

The Operations Manager very nearly rolled her eyes. "This is not a dating service," she reprimanded gently, and was rewarded with an almost sheepish smile from across the table, "Perhaps we should start again. Let us both tell each other something about ourselves that no one else knows."

Randy actually did roll his eyes, but he was smiling slightly. "I feel like I'm at a girl's slumber party," he teased, sipping at his tea as though to prove his point, "But fine. Ummm..." His eyes travelled to the left as he contemplated possible answers. "Well, back in the sixth grade I was nearly killed by a snake…" 

* * *

It was nearly a year after that afternoon of tea and small talk that Hetty decided to make her move at last. When Randy the homeless man had finished eating, all those months before, she'd sent him on his way, leaving her the simple task of taking his tea cup with her to run for fingerprints. Eric had found a match in less than twenty minutes, and she'd filed the information away, waiting for the opportune moment to arrive. When Jason Wyler appeared in their investigation she knew it was time.

Lying to her team was never pleasant but she knew it was necessary. If either Sam or Detective Deeks (aka Jason Wyler aka Randy the homeless man) knew of the other's true identity they would never have fought well enough to convince the Warriors they wanted in and the whole Op would have been blown. Besides, admitting she had prior knowledge of Marty Deeks' identity would only cause friction with the LAPD, something she was eager to avoid. And so, she feigned ignorance right up until the detective got both himself and her agent arrested.

The rest of the case was a job interview for the young man. Could he work with her team? Could he handle himself? Did he have their backs? The moment he got to Sam's side in time, she knew, and she made damn sure Vance approved her request for a liaison officer. And the next time they came face to face, at a bar this time, she made certain she got more than his fingerprints.


End file.
